Troubles and Time
by Rooscha
Summary: Elita admits to Optimus why she can't be intimate with him. Chromia and Ironhide now included. Series of one-shots that hold loose continuity. Sticky.
1. Torubles Begin

Spark-Bonding is not an original idea of mine. I'm not quite sure who it belongs to, but it is not mine. If anyone knows, let me know and I will credit them in the next chapter. Finals week stresses me out, so I decided to write a short-ish and sweet OptxLita.

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><p>Elita couldn't help but repress a sigh. She was watching her drop dead gorgeous mech bark orders to poor members of their small team. Apparently, the US government had decided that there was no way the Autobots could continue adding on to the base without the proper permits. Her poor mech had been so happy to finally begin construction on their new home on Earth. When he had woken up earlier that day, his side of the bond had been pure bliss and playfulness. He had even shown up in her office and teased her by stretching his massive frame in her doorway. She smiled and leaned against the side of the half-constructed hanger.<p>

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><p>"Elita." She had been so engrossed in the latest set of data-pads that Prowl had graciously given to her the night before that she hadn't realized the proximity of her mate until he was directly in front of her.<p>

"Optimus, what are doing here? Aren't you supposed to be helping the rest of the mechs gather supplies?" Elita knew very well what her mech was _supposed_ to be doing, regardless if he was going to do it or not. Optimus reached into their bond and caressed her spark with bliss and arousal. Elita sat upright, surprised at his forward behavior. Usually Optimus was more contained, especially early in the morning. He was not a morning person. At all.

Optimus smirked, knowing that he had garnered his mate's full attention. He watched her optics roam his frame, deciding what to do next. Should he stalk into the office and sweep the data-pads off her desk and ravish her? Or should he tease her all day long and let them come together passionately? Deciding upon the latter, Optimus stretched his large frame, drawing her attention to his broad and powerful shoulders. He allowed his hands to grasp the top of the door frame, lengthening his torso.

Elita let her optics feast. Optimus' body had always made her hot. Even back when she was a lowly officer and he was commanding the Autobot army, one look at his perfect upper body would have her melting. But, Elita was no dummy. She knew exactly what her naughty mate was trying to do. And there was no way that she would throw herself at him before the day was done. For that matter, she would never throw herself at him. Her femme pride would simply not allow her to be seen as a submissive player in this relationship. But, that didn't mean that she couldn't look...or participate.

With a smirk of her own, the femme commander leant back in her chair, allowing her chassis to arch blissfully, working out the kinks in the wiring. Of course, it also had the added bonus of allowing Optimus an optic full of beautiful femme chassis. Optimus had always had a weakness for her breast plate. Although, Optimus simply had a weakness for Elita. There was not a single part of her that he did not love. And none that he not caressed with hands or his glossa. The mere thought of Optimus caressing her with any part of his anatomy had her core temperature rising.

Elita decided that it was time to speed up Optimus' pump. She pushed her chair back slightly and rested her legs on the table. The rosy armor glinted under the harsh fluorescent lights, calling to Optimus' optics and hands. The giant mech's hands twitched on the metal above his head, making small dents. His pump sped up at the sight of his beloved's legs resting innocently on the desk. Legs he wanted wrapped around his waist as he divulged in her hot, wet femme port.

Elita's laugh rang in his audios, breaking him out of his fantasy. His azure optics met her cerulean ones over her desk and data-pads. Both sets of optics softened with need for their mate. His deepened in color, signaling his need to make love to his femme, while hers lightened with her need to be taken and shown the love only her bonded could give. For those few moments, there were no duties. There was no war. There was only a mech, a femme and a well-placed desk.

Optimus strode forward, dropping his arms to his sides. Elita let her legs drop off the side of the desk. The firewalls around their sparks dropped and both sides of the bond were flooded with desire.

"'Lita, I need you." To hear such simpering words coming from a mech so large and commanding had an immediate impact on the femme. He mate, the most powerful mech on Cybertron, dropped to his knees before her seated form. His head found her lap and azure optics met her own.

"Please, 'Lita. Please?" Hearing her mate sound so desperate and feeling his desire and need for her through their bond was enough to make her seriously consider throwing him on the floor in her office and having her wicked way with him. It had been almost an earth month since they had joined sparks. Even longer since they had a proper interface. It was much easier and quicker to align systems for a merge than it was to pleasure the both of them through interfacing.

"Optimus, I would love to spark-merge and interface with you, but you have duties to attend to. The others will need your trailer to tow the necessary supplies to the other side of base. Without you, the twins and Ratchet will blow each other up, Chromia and Ironhide will shamelessly tease each other. No work will get done without you." It was spark breaking to watch her mate's optics dim with loss of hope.

In a desperate attempt to get his femme's attention, he flooded the bond with everything he had. Desire, love, passion, endearment. Anything and everything to get her to reconsider. to his immense surprise, her optics darkened with desire and her head tilted back. That was all the invitation he needed. Raising onto his knees, instead of sitting on his feet, he began to kiss and gently nip the sensitive lines that ran through her throat.

Elita threw her head back with a moan, feeling lubricant begin to seep down her port. One of her mate's massive hands grasped the back of her head, allowing him control over her pleasure. The other hand began running up and down the smooth metal of her breast plate. The combined sensations had the femme melting in his grasp.

Optimus chuckled upon seeing his femme melt from commander to lover in a few nips and sucks. It had been far too long since the two of them had interfaced or merged. He was a mature mech with mechly needs. And his mechly needs had been met lately with a cold shoulder or a cold berth. Elita had been traveling on diplomatic missions since she had landed on earth, because the governments seemed to find her disposition favorable to Chromia's.

His hand ghosted across her interface panel, soaking in the heat. He decided it was time to question his lady-love as to why she had refused to interface with him. Since she had landed over two earth months ago, they had only interfaced four times. They had spark-merged only six times. Being in her presence alone was becoming intoxicating for him. It was becoming dangerous for him to be on duty. All he could think of was rosy-red armor and the way her body fit so nicely against his. He would do anything for her. He would gladly put his spark on the line or be her slave. So, why was she rejecting his advances?

"Elita," The femme moaned at the sound of her own name, bucking into his hand, which was still resting on her panel, "Elita. Why have you been refusing to interface with me?" When she did not respond save for another moan and squirm against his hand, Optimus removed his hands from her completely.

Even with the removal of his hands, she was still moaning and twitching. Optimus smiled with mechly pride. A few touches of his hand and a few sweeps of his glossa and her processors went offline. He waited patiently until she came back to him. He twitched as the feelings of her arousal and annoyance seeped into the bond. When she looked at him, however, his pride was halted and replaced with concern for his lover. She looked...broken. All at once, she was still.

"Elita, what is it? Let me help you, as is my duty as your mate. Stop turning away from me and let me in." His words sunk into her processor slowly. She supposed that he did have a right to know what was swirling in her processor.

"It's just...you are so busy. You have the base to build, the mechs to look after and negotiations with the government to deal with. I feel guilty asking you to spend so much time teasing me into overload. I know it is much easier to bond with you, but even that depletes your energy reserves so much that I don't dare partake too often. It's much easier for me to take of myself and you to take care of yourself."

Optimus offlined his optics. Anger began to seep into their bond, making Elita rock back in her chair to get away from him. After all, he was a large male, full of male rage. When his optics opened and pinned hers, a shiver raced down her spinal relay at the intensity of his gaze. He stood abruptly, towering over her seated form.

"Do not ever think such thoughts, Elita-One." His gaze was too powerful and she was forced to look away from him in a moment of uncharacteristic weakness. A giant silver hand grabbed her chin and gently but firmly guided her optics back to his own.

"I am your mate. It is my duty as well as my privilege and honor to bring you to overload. I do not care how tired I am, I always want you. I am always willing to tease you and love you and cuddle you. Do not ever insinuate that I should overload without you, simply because I am commander of the Autobots. I will not 'take care of myself' unless I am utterly unable to get to you. The backlash of pleasure through our bond would be torment on you. You would be cripples with the pleasure and the need to overload yourself. We are a mated pair. You and I belong together. We were made for each other. We should share pleasure, as Primus has intended for us."

Optimus had moved closer and closer to her frame as he spoke, until she could feel his vents cycle gently across her face and there was nowhere else she could look. His words, as always, comforted her. His wisdom was amazing and inspiring. Here she was, acting like a spoilt sparkling while he was preaching unconditional love.

"Do you understand me, Elita?" His voice was authoritative, but his hands were soft and gentle on her face. She nodded, not trusting her vocalizer to function. He ducked his head a tiny bit further and kissed her.

Optimus had always been a fantastic kisser. His glossa could massage hers in such a way that made her process nothing but him. The way his optics would flicker when he made love to her mouth set her lubricant flowing and her pump quickening. This kiss was no different. While the mood had been sedated with her deep confession, she quickly found herself deep in the forgotten arousal. Optimus was also feeling both of their frames heating, as he pulled her from the seat, only to dump himself into it.

With his love on his lap, Optimus allowed a happy purr to escape his vocalizer. Just as his interface rod began to push insistently on his panel, he received an incoming transmission.

"Ratchet to Prime. We are ready to begin moving supplies. Your trailer is prepped and ready. However, the liaison is shouting about permits, Optimus. Did you not receive Prowl's data-pad about permits? Ratchet out."

With a deep groan, Optimus pulled himself off his femme and straightened his frame. The glossy look in her optic made him groan deeper, while a deep purr erupted from his vocalizer. It simply was not fair. He sent a quick transmission to Ratchet, letting him know that he would be there momentarily, before kissing his femme one last time.

"Tonight, love. I promise. I will work you into multiple overloads. I want to hear you calling my name to Primus because of how much bliss you will be in. Do you hear me?" All Elita could do was moan out a strangled, 'yes,' before Prime stalked angrily out of the office.

And after a short trip to their wash racks to clean out her dripping port, Elita had come out to check on the progress. It seemed that night could not fall quickly enough for either of them, as Optimus shot her a bolt of lust as he caught her optics from across the tarmac.

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><p>Alright. This evolved. It was supposed to be short and a one-shot. This looks like it might end up being a smutty series of one-and-two-shots. Hope you all enjoy. Oh, and I don't have time to Beta it tonight, so please forgive any small mistakes.<p> 


	2. Chromia's Glossa

Thanks to all those who favorited and to Jovianokamigirl for reviewing! Glad to see that people are enjoying this as much as I am. Once again, Spark-bonding and transfluid are not my original ideas (No idea where they came from), nor are these my characters. Enjoy! PS: This is mostly movie verse, as they are on Earth and the allspark mission, but I wanted to tag Elita, so it's really more of a fusion. Sorry if elita seems a little OOC, but she has girly problems, just like the rest of us. Especially after being on her own for so long.

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><p>"Chromia! I could have lived the rest of my long life without ever hearing that!" Elita nearly shouted at her best friend. They were both sprawled out on Ironhide and Chromia's large berth, watching human television and gossiping. It had gotten out of control, and quickly. Though, this was to be expected when the two best friends got together.<p>

"What? You said that you wanted to know how we are doing, and I obliged." 'Mia smiled her Cheshire-cat grin, stretching out on her stomach on the berth.

"Should I be sitting here? I don't want to sit in anything...personal." At this comment, Chromia burst into laughter, almost shaking the berth with her intensity. Elita couldn't help but smile at the happiness in her friend's optics. 'Hide and 'Mia were truly a perfect pair and both loved to over-share about their experiences on the berth. There were times when Optimus would burst into their rooms groaning about Ironhide's in-depth 'lessons.'

"Of course not. Our berth is never a safe to be. Hide cleans me up just fine, but I don't know about the berth. I'm usually too busy trying to not let his transfluid slip out of me to notice the berth." Chromia only laughed harder at Elita's scrambling to get off the berth.

"You two are truly disgusting, do you know that? Why is it that every time I come over here I end up listening to you talk about how much transfluid ends up in your port on any given day? I should really learn that the twins are better for a therapeutic talk than you are." Chromia's helm snapped up, optics locking on Elita's.

"Why didn't you say you needed some girl talk? C'mon. Let's hear about the Femme Commander's problems." Chromia lifted her torso off the berth, folding her arms beneath her and resting her chin in her palms. Elita rubbed anxiously at her hip holster. It was a habit that had developed shortly after Optimus had left her. It let her know that she was still in control of something, even if it was only her weapon.

"Optimus and I...we're in trouble. I can't seem to allow us much intimacy lately. It's like being around him makes me nervous. I know it sounds ridiculous, but it's true. I've grown apart from him. And after having to command on my own and not having to rely on him for anything for a millennia or so, I just don't feel like he and I are communicating anymore. It was never our strength, but now...it's so much worse."

Chromia remained stock still, optics piercing into Elita's. If there was one thing 'Mia excelled at, it was harsh reprimands. She slowly folded her down, still keeping optic contact. Then- _CLANG_

"OW! CHROMIA! What was that for?" Elita removed her hand from the side of her helm reluctantly. One glance downwards let her know that Chromia had just thrown a magazine for one of her titanium-piercing live rounds at her helm. Chromia smiled sweetly, now settled against the wall, looking quite smug with herself.

"You idiot. Why are you here when you could be fixing this problem with the Boss Bot right now?" At Elita's blank look, Chromia continued, "Look. Grab him as best you can. Throw him onto his back. While he's looking up at you like you're the answer to his prayers, incinerate his crotch panel and ride him until _your_ port is dripping with his transfluid. After that, wrench his chest plates open and thrust your spark against his until your bond is solidified. Easy as that, sweetspark."

Elita shouldn't have been surprised at the disgusting glossa of her second in command. Unfortunately, Elita had been cooped up in her office for far too long and had not yet become accustomed to her best friend's mouth plates. There was no denying the sudden heat flair in her spark at her friend's words. If only it could be that simple with Optimus.

"As much as I would love to take your advice, brightspark, I really don't think that is going to fix our communication issues. If anything, Optimus would drop his transmission and be in the med bay for weeks. And then we'd have more issues because I'd be waiting for him to get better before I could speak with him."

Chromia laughed lightly, cuddling up with one of the pillows on the berth. Earth culture had been adopted by everyone on base. Some of their comfort items were truly delicious.

"'Lita. He's a mech. For him, that is communication. Jump his skid-plates and he'll get the message about lovin' quickly. And, if this about you taking too long to overload and feeling guilty about it, STOP. There is no reason to be guilty about letting your mate take his time with you. Optimus would probably love it. I know Ironhide loves doing it to me."

Elita's right optic fritzed, blinking in and out for a second before settling. She considered her friend's words carefully. Optimus would love bringing her to overload. He always had a fierce look of mech pride on his faceplates as he brought her over the edge.

"It's not Optimus. It's me. I have issues with letting him near me again. It's just...I've been alone for so long that it's like being back at square one. I feel self-conscious around him. I want to love him like he deserves, but it's difficult for me to readjust." Elita took a deep breath, "I know it is insane. He is my bonded. But, I like keeping up my firewalls. It makes me less susceptible to his emotions. It weakens me. So does this desire. I feel weak when I'm trying to overload. Is that wrong?" Chromia was looking at her as though she was a particularly fascinating weapon.

"Yes. Yes, it is. That's horrible. You know that he longs to hold you close and love you. His bond is screaming at him to do so. His bond is telling him to make love to you and overload you as many times as possible. 'Lita. You are causing him pain." Chromia looked more serious than she had ever looked when it was just the two of them. "You need to get over yourself. Seriously. I'm saying this as a friend and as a fellow bonded. I had the same conflict with 'Hide once. It ended fabulously, but it was a pit of a fight. Learn from us. We're different. Work with it."

Elita bit at her lip components, knowing in her spark that Chromia was right. Of course she was. 'Hide and 'Mia had been bonded for much longer than she and Optimus had known each other. Cautiously, she allowed the firewall around her spark to drop. She reached into Optimus' presence. He hadn't noticed her intrusion. He was probably too busy working around problems. She reached out to him, sending him a small burst of affection.

The responding wave of love and desire made her knees buckle. She slid down Chromia's door, clutching at the door frame. Ignoring her friend's laugh bubbling in her audios, she reached out once more, basking in the love her mate gifted her with. Elita stood, bowing graciously to her friend, who merely smiled and waved one hand carelessly towards the door.

In the hallway, Elita nearly ran to her shared rooms. She bypassed the living room and bedroom, instead choosing the door that led to the washracks. She flicked on the bathtub, allowing it to fill to the brim with cleanser. With a sigh, she allowed her tired frame to relax in the bubbling golden fluid. Little bits of grime and dirt were making their way to the top of the cleanser, making Elita grimace. She was not a mech. Grit and grime did not make her feel like a femme.

She sighed once more, enjoying the bubbles her vents made in the cleanser. Chromia had been correct. She did need to consider Optimus' thoughts and feelings. Simply because she thought she knew what was best for him did not mean that she actually knew what was best for him or his spark. Perhaps letting him take his sweet time in allowing her to overload her was therapeutic for him? It must be, if even Ironhide enjoyed bringing his femme to overload. Ironhide was not a patient mech, he preferred instant gratification to anything else.

She sank deeper into the fluid, offlining her optics and allowing fluid to cover all her intake valves. She stayed this way for as long as was possible, sitting up at the last moment and heaving air into her intakes. She began playing with the bubbles, contemplating her distance from her mate.

In the beginning of their relationship, she had been so shy about her body and her needs. A few vorns with Optimus and Chromia being around her and she was cured of that shame. But, after spending so long away from her friend and her mate, the same doubts and worries she had about herself were coming back to haunt her. It was silly, she supposed. She was the feared Femme Commander of the Autobots. She had few problems taking the lives of those who threatened herself or her femmes. But, when faced with her mate, she turned into a silly ball of disgusting femme simpering.

"No more." The words echoed in the emptiness of their rooms. With the door to the washrack open, Elita had a clear view of their living room. It was filled with small trinkets from their travels. Each had a special memory for them, and a treasured place on the shelf. Elita's optics narrowed as her optics keyed in on a scarf that Optimus had obtained after his mech party on Cybertron. Although Elita had shared his memories and knew that nothing had actually happened between the dancers and her mate, she still hated that damn scarf.

Her optics jumped open as a plan formulated in her processors. She lifted herself out of the fluid and dried quickly under the drying hood. With purposeful Commander-like footsteps, she walked into the simple living room and grabbed the scarf from where it was carefully folded. She held one end of the beautiful scarf and let the other end fall. It was a deep blue, so deep that it almost looked black if one didn't look closely.

Elita held the scarf up to her hips. Not even close. She was obviously far hippier than the other femmes. Dancers on Cybertron were much like Ballet dancers on earth. No curves to be had. They were athletes and would even compete in festivals and such. They were not warrior models, who had hips for storage and balance. She grimaced. Time for a new plan. She grabbed two cubes of high-grade energon from Optimus' personal stash, setting them on the end table in the living room. She then grabbed both again, unhappy with her decision to set them in the living room.

Elita turned suddenly, and gently kicked open the door to the berthroom. She had a new plan. It was wicked, slightly immoral and if Prowl found out, he would surely attempt to throw her in the brig for at least a few weeks. She smiled wickedly. Sounds exactly like what Chromia would have had in mind for the both of them.

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><p>"Optimus! I need help! Please!" The giant mech immediately dropped the support beam he had been supporting, causing it to sag dangerously against the building. Ironhide yelled at him, but it was too late. Optimus was already on the run. There was nothing stopping a mech who thought his femme was in danger. His giant feet were eating up ground and he found himself sliding to a stop in front of his rooms. His spark had told him Elita's exact location and he had been sending Elita as much support and courage as he could through the bond. The code was typed with fast fingers and his considerable girth squeezed in as soon as he could manage.<p>

His spark told him that Elita was in the bedroom.

She was.

"_Primus"_ Was all the illustrious Commander and Prime of the Autobots could utter.

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><p>I'm evil. I love being evil. Tune in next time! BTW, I'm having to upload this quickly, so pardon my mistakes. My computer has crashed four times while typing this and I really just want to publish it and get a new computer as soon as possible. Thanks for Reading! Please Review if the fancy strikes!<p> 


	3. Tangled

Optimus opened his optics as wide they would go. If they stretched any further, the glass would have ruptured. His audio covers spun furiously, a habit he had developed over the years whenever his emotions ran high. And seeing Elita prostrate on his berth with his favorite scarf wrapped around her body. The material was shiny, rivaling his mate's paintjob. It was wrapped over her bust, twisting and turning around her chassis until it tangled around her hips. The very end of the scarf was resting over her port.

Optimus could have passed out at that very moment. Elita had been so distant, emotionally and physically. And now it appeared as though she was extending the 'olive branch' as the humans said. Her optics glinted at him, making her look both seductive and dangerous, a combination that his pump speeding up. His body nearly shook with barely contained passion for his femme.

Elita's soft laugh reached his whirring audios. Her helm tossed back, hitting the pillows behind her. Her chassis lifted off the bed, allowing Optimus to see the expanse of her bust. The scarf truly was tangled and messy around his femme. He almost chuckled, she was going to need help getting herself untangled.

"Do you require assistance?" His baritone sounded deep and husky, even to himself. Elita moaned softly, but the moan morphed into laugh, making her whole body bounce slightly on his berth. If he was capable of salivating, he would have created a small river in his room by now. His desire for his femme was quickly taking over his entire processor.

"I only need help if you are willing to gently untangle your femme. If you're going to be fast and rough, I want no part of your 'help.'" She lifted her helm, tightening the scarf around her body. Her optics were now soft and sultry. Seeing the need in her optics set his gears on edge. The cabled in his thighs tightened, subconsciously readying him for the leap to the berth.

Despite the tension in his limbs, Optimus had no problems appearing soft and gentle for his femme. He strode to the side of the berth, allowing the tension in his servos to propel him much faster than was truly necessary. Within astroseconds he had placed his hands on his berth, right by his femme's helm. Unfortunately, his femme had made it clear that she was not in the mood for domination.

"I believe that I can provide whatever you need, my love." With his hands flat on the berth, he lowered himself onto his knees, reaching out a gentle hand to stroke her back. The femme arched into his hands. Her armor was warmer than his hands, the temperature difference made Optimus smile. His femme was already ready to become one with him. He stamped down on his growing pride, instead concentrating on the scarf.

He knew that Elita hated that scarf. He had a great time that night, although the scarf was not exactly what she thought. But, if it got him this close to his mate, he would allow her to think whatever she liked. His capable hands began gently untangling his scarf from around his femme.

"This was not how I had planned to call you here." Elita's voice sounded content and far away. He knew from experience that the small femme often sounded that way when she was aroused. His hands continued working, often stopping to stroke her body; mostly in attempt to keep her aroused and ready to mate. He fully intended to make love to her when he was done untangling his silly femme.

"What did you have planned instead?" Azure optics met aquamarine ones, as she tilted her head to look at him. The connection went far beyond their optics. They were connected souls, and all it took was for one look to ignite the bond.

"I had planned to wrap the scarf alluringly around my hips and call you to meet me in the washrack. However, as you can tell, my plan…got tangled up." She chuckled lowly, letting her optics detach from his. His strong, thick fingers gently traced up her throat, resting her chin in his hand.

"I like this turn of events. It only means that you'll have to wait for a few more moments until you are freed. Then, we will see if we can become entangled." She laughed, spluttering something about how cheesy he sounded. Seeing her convulse again upon his berth made him redouble his efforts on the scarf. It was in his best interest to finish quickly.

Elita settled quickly, allowing him to shift her body when it was necessary to untangle the scarf. The scarf had only ripped once or twice, which was surprising, considering how tightly it was wrapped around her servos. He shifted her to the left and right, until the only portion of the scarf that was left was that bit between her thighs.

His hands ran up and down her thighs, skipping over where she needed him most. When she moaned and curled up on herself, he knew she was ready to begin their mating ritual. It had been so long since they had come together as one machine that she was going to be more sensitive than usual. It occurred to him that was why she had request a gentle coupling. Truth be told, he would take her any way she wanted. Rough, hard, soft, slow. Anything she wanted.

He rested the broad palm of his hand against what was left of the scarf. He nearly hit his head on the berth when he realized that his palm wasn't just hot, it was also wet. Which meant that her port was uncovered. It seemed that his femme was just as keen about this coupling as he was.

"Naughty femme." Optimus' voice was so low it sounded foreign, not of his body, but of his passion. She jerked forward further. He pressed his palm into her port, grinding into her external node. Elita moaned loudly, thrusting her hips into his hand. Optimus sat up straighter on the floor. He made to move his scarf away from her port, but was struck with a naughty idea. With Elita so sensitive that moving the scarf over her port would probably set her off. He gently grasped the scarf, dragging it slowly over her port, soaking the scarf and sending Elita into a pleasure induced tizzy.

"Optimus! Stop teasing me, you fragging dirty Mech!" Her voice started out strong and bold, but trailed off into a moan. She was going crazy, thrashing and curling her hands into the berth covering, attempting to grab his hands, his chest, his face. But, he was too far away from her to grasp fully.

Deciding to take pity on his femme, he rose onto his feet and crawled onto his berth. He braced himself on his elbows and forearms above her. She twisted under him, centering her face under his chest, right where she needed to be for him to slip his interface into her port. It told him that she was aroused beyond belief, she was forgetting that he didn't even have his groin covering off.

He chuckled when she grabbed his chest plates, teasing along his windows. So she hadn't forgotten him after all. He moved a hand down to tear off his groin plate, throwing it onto the bedside table, right beside Elita's head. Her optics focused on his codpiece for a moment, before shifting back to his face. His rod extended to its full length, hot and ready to bring his femme the most intense pleasure of her life.

Elita's hand reached down and gently traced her hand along his strong thighs, teasing him as he had teased her. When her hand made purchase on his rod, he stiffened and groaned. She grasped him hard, moving her hands aggressively. Optimus delved his hand into her port, feeling how wet she was. She was hot and wet, thrusting up towards him while working his rod furiously.

"Enough." Optimus' command had Elita's hand rooted in place around his rod. There was no arguing with him when he used that tone of voice. She gently released him and met his optics with hers. Optimus grasped his own rod, dragging the tip of his interface through her lubricant, smearing the bright pink substance over his sizeable rod.

"There will no longer be any distance between us, Elita. We were meant to be together as one machine for all eternity. When you need love, you will come to me. I will come to you when the need strikes me. You will no longer deny your Prime or your mate." His commanding voice had her melting, Elita always had a thing for Optimus' dominating nature. He may have been a softly spoken mech, but in bed, he was a dominator. Which was thrilling for the normally dominate femme.

With that small speech, Optimus thrust into Elita until his rod was settled all the way to the brink. Elita's optics were overly bright, showing her pleasure. She was in it for the ride, drowning in her pleasure. Her hands stroked his chest, but it was an afterthought, not really necessary. Optimus was simply excited to have Elita back with him.

His own pleasure was overwhelming as his hips moved slowly but firmly within his femme. He moved until their hips came together, then moved back until he almost pulled out, only to repeat the dance. Elita's moan nearly startled him. She had pushed back into the berth cushioning, straightening her legs and tensing. He moved his hand to her stomach, tracing down until he met her node, pressing and teasing lightly.

"Optimus." Elita softly moaned his name as she overloaded, clenching her port around his rod. He stilled, holding off his overload. He traced her chestplates as she recovered. She obligingly opened her plates, even as she was still recovering. He reciprocated. They basked in the glow of each other's sparks for a few moments, even as Optimus still rocked his hips against her own.

When Optimus' systems were giving him warnings about his impending overload, he pushed his spark into her own. They mingled, two personalities becoming one. She shared her contentment and thankfulness, while he shared his overwhelming pleasure and excitement. All too soon, Optimus and Elita overloaded, Elita with a cry and Optimus by spilling his dark blue transfluid in her port.

With a contented moan, Optimus collapsed onto his side, grabbing up his femme on the way down. They were both dripping with coolant, but it didn't matter to the re-united lovers. They were just content to be in each other's arms, covered in lubricant and transfluid. Optimus grabbed the scarf and draped it over his femme. They fell asleep entwined with each other and covered with the scarf that started it all.

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><p>TA-DA! I totes just wrote that, peeps. Hope everyone enjoyed. There will probably be more.<p> 


	4. Bask

Hello again! Here's another short little chappie about our favorite couple. Sometimes, as Phoenix13 said, Elita just has to bask in Optimus' mechliness. And so, I give you this chapter. Enjoy and give me a review. They inspire.

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><p>The day had been exhausting. Meetings and political jargon had ruled Optimus' day. As usual with politics, his exhaustion was mental, rather than physical. When he had rolled off the cargo plane, he wanted nothing more than to blow off some steam. Luckily for him, there was no lack of enthusiasm to have an impromptu fighting tournament.<p>

Elita arrived back at the base to realize that her home was deserted. Only a few lonely mechs were left behind to act as protectors and sentries. She was waved into the compound and took bipedal form as she explored for her mate. Since their 'scarf incident' they had been attached at the hip components. Elita had come to terms with her mate. It was now no problem for them to spend hours loving each other and making sure that each was fully satisfied. Their bondings had gone from great to processor-blowing. Her processor began to bring up old videos of their interfacing and bondings, making her pump quicken in time with her steps.

She checked the rec-room and her room. She checked the porch and knocked on Bumblebee's door. Nothing. Not a soul in sight. Even Scavenger was missing from his usual spot on the newly built garden table. Finally, she opened a com-link to her mate.

"Optimus, where is everyone?" She waited for a moment, listening to her com-link with sharp audios. There was no need for her to really worry, as it was obvious that she could contact any one of the guards. She waited for about three earth minutes, then re-tried her transmission.

"Sorry, 'Lita." Optimus' voice was still enough to make her spark soar, even after all these years. "We are in the pasture, I apologize for not responding earlier, but I was in the middle of a match." Elita smiled, turning on her rosy red heel and beginning the long trek to the pasture.

"And what is the activity for today? Are you rolling around the mud, or simply watching Ironhide and the others roll in mud?" Elita smiled, knowing that Optimus would understand her gentle barb towards his best-friend. Elita had never been able to disguise her disgust for the organic material that often resided on Ironhide's body.

"I am afraid, my dear, that I am not only participating, but I was an instigator," Optimus hesitated for a moment, clearly weighing his next words. "I have had a very trying day, love. It was in my best interest to exercise my energy in a positive way, rather than negatively."

Elita chuckled softly, remembering some of Optimus' 'negative' moments. They usually ended with someone injured, or worse. But, every once in a while, 'Lita could turn that negative energy into a positive energy for her own amusement. Some of their more memorable moments together were when Optimus had excess energy; which wasn't very often, given both of their career paths. They had always tried to make time for each other at least once a week, but anything on top of that was so…special.

"Well, then…I guess I'll come out and watch you younglings attempt to beat the slag out of each other." Elita was now about halfway to the pasture by this point. There was no point in teasing him back to the bedroom, not when she was all ready to watch an interesting showdown between her mate and his loyal crowd.

"I'm sure I can speak for the mechs when I say that we are all looking forward to your appearance, Elita." Optimus sounded less winded now, he had probably taken a seat to watch some of the other mechs have a go at each other.

As Elita walked over the hill surrounding the arena, she was greeted by her mechs. Cat-calls and wolf whistles could not be stopped at a time like this. Not when they were all riled up in the manner they were. It was universal. Fighting got all the mechs primed and ready to mate. Unfortunately, she was one of only a few femmes who were on base at all. And there were only a few femmes on the base that had no attachments to a mech. Which meant that there were a lot of 'randy' mechs roaming the halls. Some amount of harassment could be tolerated. When she was in a good mood. And, Chromia and Firestar always put the mechs in their places.

Ignoring the cat-calls as best she could, Elita walked tall and proud over to her mate. Optimus was in fine form. He was leaning cockily back against the spectator's stands, arms at his sides, looking at her with lust plain for all to see on his faceplate. Elita let her hips sway as she walked, knowing that the waning sun would cast an amazing glow on her armor. She allowed confidence to flow from her, enwrapping herself in a cocoon of infamous security and calmness.

Disappointing all the mechs in the arena, she leaned over her hulking mech and kissed him on the helm. Optimus, never one to be left out of a public display of affection, slung an arm around her waist and pulled her down, so she was flush against him. It was an awkward way to sit, so she was forced to prop a knee on the bench. The position was a very intimate one, mimicking the position they would find themselves in if they were copulating in his office.

"Kiss her harder!"

"C'mon Optimus! You can do better!"

"Pin her down! Show her what you can do!"

The mechs were calling various obscenities to Optimus, who merely smiled against her mouth and continued to kiss her. Elita, on the other hand, used a gesture the humans called, 'flipping the bird.' It was a perfect way to express her feeling while her other hand was gripping her mate and was unable to reach her weapon. And it was great to use when she could not yell at them, because she was busy slipping her glossa into her mate's mouth.

This action inspired the mechs to laugh and renew their efforts to make obscenities. Optimus broke their kiss and Elita just barely suppressed her whimper of displeasure. There was only so much a femme commander could do when confronted with the mechliness of Optimus Prime. She actually considered not whimpering to be a personal victory. Optimus smiled and looked into her optics, sending her waves of love and adoration through their bond. Elita couldn't help but smile back at the mech, sending her love and affection back to him.

Optimus gently slid Elita off of him and onto the bench beside him. One of his large arms crossed behind her shoulders and he held her close to his body. At this point, the mechs had figured out that the show was over and they had begun another match. This time, it was Bumblebee versus Sunstreaker. Elita loved Bee to death, but Sunny had been a trained gladiator. And a good gladiator at that. He was deadly and efficient. Bee was stealthy and moved quickly, but Sunstreaker had many years of experience on Bee and the match was over quickly, but not before Sunny and Sideswipe made Bee yell many obscenities and declare that he was their 'bitch.'

"Optimus versus Ironhide! Optimus verus Ironhide!" The mech's chant reached a fever-pitch within the sunken pitch, making the roar of vocalizers resound off the sides of the pitch. Optimus smiled and squeezed her shoulder, standing and walking into the arena. The arena was far enough away from the stands that she couldn't hear what was being said, so she just watched.

Ironhide had taken up the other side of the arena, settling himself into a fight position. Optimus stretched upwards, lengthening his body towards the night sky. Elita was struck with a slight sadness that Chromia was away on a mission with the rest of her femmes; this was likely to be a fight to remember and fantasize about for weeks. Instead, she focused her energy on her mate. Optimus allowed his bulk to take the brunt of Ironhide's first attack. He absorbed the momentum and flipped 'Hide into the waiting mechs on the sidelines.

If Elita hadn't have been so distracted drooling over her mate's mechliness, she probably would have laughed at the mechs scrambling. However, she was so entranced by the way her mate's thighs reflected the now artificial lights of the ring. The light seemed to find favor with him. It didn't matter how horrible or harsh the light was, he always looked as though Primus had just pushed him from his fold. Optimus was almost godly in how regal he looked.

His broad shoulders narrowed to a perfect waist, which broadened back to his great thighs. Even his feet were amazing. They were broad and sturdy, just like the rest of him. His optics were gentle and loving, with her and all of his brothers and sisters in Primus. Just like his optics, his spark was gentle. He was her gentle giant. He always seemed to be intimidating someone, but most were mistaken in thinking he was dangerous. The only one he was dangerous to was a Decepticon. He would never hurt or intimidate another Autobot. (Unless they were in his inner-circle and in need of a good growl. )

She watched him move. In combat, he was graceful. His feet and his legs worked in perfect harmony with his upper body. It was a pleasure to watch his muscular cables contract and relax as he threw Ironhide around the ring. Every blow that Optimus took was reintroduced to Ironhide three-fold. Watching his face was by far her favorite part of basking in his mechliness. His normally relaxed face contracted and relaxed with each blow he took and gave. His battlemask was in place, as was customary for him, but his expression was still easy to decipher. His eyes were his most expressive feature. By this point in their relationship, she could tell all of his emotions just by looking into his eyes. No bond was necessary for her anymore.

Ironhide was on the floor by now, with Optimus holding him down. In fact, Optimus had him in a choke-hold. Ironhide's face was full of distaste and fully-blown embarrassment at being defeated by his 'youngling.' Optimus, on the other hand, was glowing with pride at having bested his best friend and oldest mentor. When Ironhide smacked the floor with a giant hand, Optimus let him go. Optimus pulled himself to his feet and then pulled Ironhide to his feet. Both mechs clapped each other on the back and ambled back towards Elita.

Ironhide muttered a hello to Elita and took off for his own quarters. There was no need for him to shower, as Chromia was going to be away for several days, but Ironhide had known Optimus long enough to be able to read his body language and optics almost as well as Elita herself. Optimus was stiff and tall, not relaxed and at ease. His optics held the reason why. She was now the prey. That's what a femme gets for basking in Optimus Prime's mechliness all day long. It was going to be a long night. A long, but fun, night.

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><p>Sorry it's kind of short, but I liked it that way. Who knows what will inspire my next chapter. A thanks to all those who reviewed my little story! Thanks to Phoenix13, who provided the inspiration for this chapter and allowed me to use it! Until next chapter.<p> 


	5. Glyphs

Any OOC-ness is due to the youth of these characters in this chapter. They had to start somewhere, right? Please read and enjoy this amazingly M-rated chapter. A/N at end.

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><p>There wasn't much that could faze Ironhide and Chromia. The two warriors had been online and fighting before most 'Bots knew they were online. Therefore, there wasn't a lot that could scare either of them. However, there were two things that scared Ironhide above all else. Chromia being injured and Ratchet in his med-bay.<p>

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><p>It just so happened that Ironhide had to drag Chromia off the battlefield during their last skirmish. Therefore, 'Hide was having to deal with the two things that scared him. 'Mia being injured and Ratchet. Now, Ratchet was a great medic and was a fun mech to be around while drinking high-grade. However, when Ratchet was in his med-bay and he had 'Bots to attend to, he was little more than a hellacious hell-cat. Gone was the randy and funny mech that drank high-grade with all the mechs in the rec-room. Instead, there was only a grumpy and bossy mech.<p>

Usually Ironhide avoided the med-bay. But when his beautiful spark-mate was injured, he had little choice but to follow his spark and take care of his mate. Currently, however, Chromia was recharging and looking like an offlined sparkling. She was curled up on her side, one hand clutching at her spark. She had been hit in the chest plates by one of the seekers and had just been through a horribly painful procedure to stabilize her spark and replace her casing. Fortunately for Ironhide, she had come through the surgery with no problems.

Unfortunately for 'Hide, Ratchet was in a fine mood. He was yelling and cursing at anyone and everyone within hearing distance. There had been two casualties during the battle and almost thirty bots had been injured enough to need beds in the med-bay. This meant that anyone who could possibly walk to their own quarters had been escorted there by Prowl or Red-Alert and left with a small camera at the foot of their bed as well as a set of wires that transmitted vitals straight to Ratchet. All of this made Ratchet a very upset 'Bot and he was never one to internalize his anger.

Therefore, Ironhide was attempting to keep a low-profile, or as low of a profile as a twenty foot high black mass of robot could keep. He hadn't emitted a single vocalization since 'Mia had come out of surgery. Instead, he was keeping himself occupied by stroking the sides of his beautiful mate. It still startled him to see the size difference between his massive black hand and the petite sides of 'Mia. When they had first met, 'Hide could encircle her waist with his hands. As time wore on, 'Mia began to develop and blossom into a woman. He was happy to report that he could no longer span her waist, but his hands had since made themselves at home on her luscious hips.

As he listened to Ratchet yell and bang tools against his patients and work benches, 'Hide let himself drift back to when they had first met.

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><p>"Name's Ironhide, little femme." Ironhide chuckled as he remembered his smoothest introduction to any femme. He could still remember how badly her slap had hurt and how surprised he had been when she had started yelling at him to boot. At first, it was a turn-off. A femme, hitting him? She was too aggressive for him. But, as he continued to run into her throughout the city, she became more and more alluring. As he bedded weak, willful femmes, he found himself fantasizing about the little blue femme who slapped him.<p>

And his beautiful little one had certainly made his life pit for a long time. When he started pursuing her, she was chaste and virginal, as her creators had expected her to be. However, Ironhide had a way of turning good femmes into bad femmes. And he was very good at doing so. So, Ironhide began to think of Chromia as a challenge. If he could just get her to bow to his will and interface with him, he'd be able to leave her.

As with most things in his youth, he was terribly wrong. His first time with Chromia hadn't been until nearly three vorns after he met her. In that amount of time, she had convinced him that he didn't need any other femme. He only needed her. After their first time, he truly believed it. He was ashamed that it took him until that moment to decide on her. But, from that moment on, he devoted his life to his beautiful femme.

It had been a beautiful day on Cybertron. The moons had shone brightly above them, as they strode through downtown Iacon. 'Mia had drug him from shop to shop, but he found that he couldn't become annoyed with her. Seeing the brilliant femme so calm and happy was a nice change from the 'femme-from-pit' that she often presented to the world.

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><p>"How about this one?" Ironhide asked Chromia, pointing one massive black finger at a beautiful gemstone from another planet. It looked like it would have been perfect sitting at the base of her throat.<p>

"It's beautiful, 'Hide. But, it looks super expensive. And, you and I are on tight budgets as it is. There's no reason for either of us to be looking at such useless trinkets. But, it is pretty," She turned towards him, blue optics locking on his own, "Maybe one day, but for now, I think we're better off saving our credits for dinner, hum?"

"You're right, of course." Guffawing as she elbowed him in the chassis, he reluctantly followed his femme out of the store.

Three orns later, without her knowledge, 'Hide went back to the shop and purchased the bright orange stone. It hadn't been too many credits, but 'Mia was right. They were both dirt poor and sometimes meeting rent and finding credits for energon was a strain on the both of them. But 'Hide knew that he could go without high-grade for a few more orns. This was important.

And so, Ironhide found himself purchasing and engraving a message on the back of the necklace. He had picked the ancient Cybertronian symbol for love. When the sun shone on the gem, the symbol could be seen from the front, so every time the sun shone on his femme, his love for her would be illuminated. The even better part was that it was so unexpected. 'Mia would be so excited.

With the gem tucked safely in his subspace, he transformed and traveled to her domicile. She lived on the edge of town, right where the good part of Iacon and the bad part of Iacon met. Ironhide had tried for nearly a vorn and a half to get 'Mia to move in with him. It would have been a tight fit, but he would have felt much better about her safety with her tucked in his arms every night.

He transformed again and walked to the elevator. Which was, of course, out of order. So, Ironhide got the immense pleasure of walking up fifteen flights of stairs. He had always been in fairly good shape, but fifteen flights of stairs was taxing for anyone. When he knocked on her domicile entrance, his vents were expelling massive amounts of hot air and his helm had a fine sheen of coolant on it. 'Mia opened the door and openly laughed at him.

"Overheated? You must so happy to see me, sweetspark. Usually you don't get overheated until I actually touch you." She smiled and backed away from the door, allowing Ironhide to push through. 'Hide passed through the door and pushed into the small washrack, grabbing a rag to mop down his frame.

"Well, ya know how I get when I go for a few orns without a sparkscrew." Two could play the teasing game. Luckily for him, 'Mia was in a good mood.

"Mhm. And who did you go to this time? I hope you left your virus software up and running this time, darling. The last time you got nanites in your system, no one touched you for vorns." Chromia called from the small living room.

"Oh, Sweetspark, you know that the femmes are attracted to me regardless of how many nanites are swimming in my circuitry. They simply can't resist all my charm." He tilted his head in the mirror, making sure that he had sufficiently gotten rid of all the coolant on his frame.

"Charms? I'm sure. You are always so charming when you get down on your knees and beg me for a 'hand.' Ever so charming." 'Mia laughed, flipping channels. Ironhide walked out of the washrack and into the living room, plopping down on the couch beside her. The giant expanse of his body overwhelmed her femme-sized couch, making it bend in the middle and causing her to slide closer to his chassis.

"In my defense, my holo-video was not working for three orns. For a fully developed mech like myself, it was far too long. I needed a hand other than my own. But, you are so evil. Pit evil. Pit spawn. Like all femmes who aren't being paid for their services, I suppose." 'Hide shot 'Mia an evil grin and feral glance. 'Mia rolled her optics and curled into his side. He chuckled. He had definitely won that little battle.

They settled together easily, like always. It always felt as though they had been together for millennia whenever they sat together on her tiny couch. 'Hide let her pick a movie and together they sat and watched the lovable antics of a mini-bot who always found himself in unusual situations.

As 'Mia watched the movie, 'Hide watched 'Mia. It had always been a favored activity of his. He loved watching her laugh. He knew that she had a tough life, as had he, but she seemed so young and carefree when she laughed. And, the more amazing part was when she laughed, he wanted to laugh. It was like an instant reaction in him. Turning away from her smiling face, he settled back against the cushions and allowed his optics to shutter. It had been a long couple of orns…

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><p>'Hide came back out of recharge to the most peculiar feeling of hands on his legs. He couldn't remember feeling hands that were not his own anywhere on himself in a very long time. It was so nice. Soothing, but arousing at the same time. The small hands traveled to his abdomen, gently rubbing. The hands hesitated as they reached his sod piece. He smiled. Chromia.<p>

He allowed his optics to online, but kept still. She was completely engrossed in what she was doing, not paying attention to him at all. His little pit-spawn was finally ready. Finally. 'Hide had been careful not to push her beyond a gentle teasing and it seemed as though the decision had paid off. Her cool hands found the small clasps keeping his sod piece on and gently undid them. It was only then that she looked up at him.

Her faceplate was bright, but not fearful. It was perfectly like his 'Mia to present an unfearful attitude towards something she had never done before. Any other virginal femme would have been shaking and nervous, but Chromia was presenting herself with confidence. She smiled brightly and broadly, sitting a little higher on his thighs.

"Hi." Was all she could manage, but there were no words needed between them. There hadn't been words needed between the two of them for vorns. He simply smiled gently back at her, excited beyond words that he was about to share a pleasurable experience with a femme who was vivacious and beautiful. He had often fantasized about 'Mia, all different of course, but nothing compared to having her perched on his legs.

He reached forward and hooked his hands behind her knees, rubbing a thumb up and down the backs of her thighs, soothing any nervousness she might have. She smiled gratefully to him and met his lips with her own. Her tiny glossa flicked out to meet and dance with his own, making his rod strain against its light covering. 'Mia's hand seemed to know the pain in his groin, as she reached down and removed his sod piece, tossing it aside.

She pulled back from his mouth, focusing her attention on his rod. 'Hide was proud of his dimensions. He was thick and long, but not nearly as intimidating as Optimus was. (Unfortunately, he and Optimus knew each other's sizes from being roommates for a short time. It was scarring for the both of them.)

Chromia nearly purred with pleasure as she gently took hold of him. Her fingers were gentle, skimming his surface, refusing to give him the pressure and friction he needed. His vocals whined, hips straining upward, trying to make contact with her palm. 'Mia's soft laugh met his audios and he whimpered. She knew. The little minx knew she was teasing him.

His optics found hers, pleading with her. His hands tightened on the backs of her knees. He allowed his need to be seen on his faceplate. Surely she wasn't simply teasing him. She couldn't be that evil, could she? Well…she was a femme. There was no way to be sure.

Her optics softened and she grasped him firmly. He moaned his pleasure, vents expelling hot air on to her frame. She smiled down at him, optics locked with his. 'Hide was overwhelmed. He'd been given countless handjobs, but none had this impact on him. This was a deeper connection. He knew it was deeper. She was special. She was his sparkmate. The realization made his erection swell even more against her hand.

She was perfect. For never having done this before, she was excellent. But, he needed more pressure. So, Ironhide removed one hand from her knees and covered her hand with his own. He squeezed his hand around her own, and showed her the pressure and rhythm he enjoyed. 'Mia gasped, vents expelling scorching hot air. He smiled at her, knowing that to her virginal optics, this was a very arousing sight.

'Hide removed his hand and returned it to her knee, resuming his stroking. She continued stroking him, but was now paying special attention to the head of his rod. He stopped venting for a solid thirty astro-seconds. The pleasure tackled him from behind. The only warning he could give Chromia was his helm hitting the back of the couch and his hips surging upwards. His rod kicked in her grip, but 'Mia kept a steady rhythm and grip on him. Transfluid flooded her hands, flying through the air and landing on her chassis.

She kept milking his erection until his hips fell back to the cushions and he relaxed and onlined his optics. He smiled lazily, and she smiled back at him. He touched gently at the transfluid on her chassis, smearing the liquid all over her sensitized body. She shuddered and her head fell onto her chest.

"Well, I guess that answers my question," She said breathily, "You're a 'slam in and hold steady' kind of mech, instead of a 'keep thrusting' kind of mech." She angled her helm and grinned at him, looking more and more alluring by the moment. 'Hide contemplated her for a moment. He had expected her to be a little embarrassed, but she was perfectly fine. However, her temperature was still extremely elevated.

"I know where my transfluid belongs, femme," He said, raising one finger and poking it into her abdomen, right at the top of her port, right where his fluid would be stored for a potential sparkling to feed and develop on. "Right here."

Chromia shuddered, the erotic words sending a ripple through her overheated and slightly dripping port. There was nothing for her port to grab onto, though, which left her longing and empty. 'Hide smiled, having felt her shudder and seen her hips drop. So, his sparkmate was turned on by dirty talk? That was going to be a very handy little tid-bit of information to remember.

"'Mia. Open your port, sweetspark." Ironhide commanded softly, allowing his rough nature to show through, albeit in a gentle manner. She could handle his rough loving at a later time. This was not the time nor the place for roughness. 'Mia shuddered above him, but his audios picked up the telling sound of a port cover being slid to the side. What surprised him, however, was the drip of lubricant on his thigh.

His optics glanced down, looking at the pink lubricant that had landed on his black leg. He gently rubbed his finger into the lubricant, allowing it to spread onto his hand. He then lifted his finger in front of 'Mia's faceplate and rubbed the fluid together, spreading his fingers so she could see her own fluid. Her optics brightened at the sight of her own juices. Ironhide lifted his finger further, until it was just beneath his noseplates and sniffed.

It was a sweet smell. Each femme smelled different from the next, but Ironhide swore that no femme smelled as alluring as his mate. She was the best and most beautiful femme he had ever met. He checked on his femme, who was staring at him intently, waiting on his next move. He took the hand that had her lubricant on it and dropped it to his mouth. His glossa snaked out and tasted her. His optics offlined in bliss. She tasted better than she smelled. He felt 'Mia shudder again and another drop of lubricant dropped onto his thigh.

He onlined his optics and sat up straight. He moved both of his arms around her back and gently moved her so her back was on the couch and he was hovering above her. She needed to know that while she was a dominate femme, he was a more dominate mech. The couch surrounded her on three sides, while one of his massive arms created the fourth side. He dropped his mouth plates to her neck-plates, gently nipping and sucking. Her hips rolled under him and he growled possessively.

He felt his rod growing under him, but he ignored his own need and concentrated on pleasuring his femme. Giant hands traced her blue armor, while his mouth plates nuzzled her neck and chassis. His hands encircled her waist, thumbs meeting and overlapping slightly, to remind her that he was the large, dominate male in the situation. When 'Mia was actively moaning and bucking against him, he dropped a hand to her port. 'Hide traced her lips with his hand.

Her hips bucked more aggressively and he could feel her lubricant drenching the tips of his fingers. He then swirled his hand through her lubricant, making sure that his first two fingers were covered and slick. When he was certain they were covered, he gently slid one finger into her sweltering port. It was then 'Hide's turn to drop his helm to his chest. Her port was hot, wet and unbelievably tight. His rod twitched aggressively as his processor sent little bits of what his fingers were feeling down to his rod.

'Mia, below him, was whimpering and bucking against his hand. She was so wet that he didn't need to worry about hurting her. He gently slid in another finger, stretching the inside of her port, but ignoring her external node. He was going to loosen her, then give her an overload. He needed to be sure that she would be ready to take him, and if she overloaded first, she might be too sensitive for him to stretch her afterward.

'Hide made sure that 'Mia could take at least four fingers comfortably, before he shifted his attention to her node. He smiled, dropping his body down and uncomfortably scooting down the couch until his mouthplates were level with her node. He then let himself be serenaded by her gentle cries as his lips and glossa teased her node and lips. She tensed beneath him, before she screamed his name with reckless abandon.

"'HIDE!" It was without a doubt the sweetest way he had ever heard his name uttered. While she recovered, he rested his helm on her abdomen, while one hand rubbed at his aching rod. He made sure to play with himself outside of her vision, as he didn't want her to rush into a decision about interfacing with him.

He then remembered the stone in his subspace. He sat up, ignoring his rude erection and pulled the stone out. To his delight, the lamp in the corner of the domicile was enough light to make the glyph gleam brilliantly. Her optics came online and focused on the gemstone. She gasped lightly, recognizing the stone from days before. She lifted her chassis off the couch, stabilizing herself on her arms.

"Do you like it?" Ironhide asked.

"'Hide. I love it. But, please, never tell me how many credits it cost you. Please just put it on me." She smiled lovingly up at him. He obliged her, letting the stone sit at the base of her throat, securing the cable around her neck and making sure it was positioned correctly. While he was distracted, her clever hand found his straining erection.

"It appears as though you aren't quite done, lover." She smiled wickedly at him. "I can help fix that." Hide dropped his hand from her throat, covering her hand with his once again.

"Only if you'd like. I'm not going to push you into anything. We can stop now, or we can do a repeat. Or…" He let his voice trail off. She was a smart femme, she knew exactly what he was trying to say.

"I'd like to try. I think interfacing with you would be amazing." Her optics were bright and excited, showing the vivacious femme he knew so well. 'Hide kissed her, but reached up behind her to pull a couch cushion off the couch and throw it on the floor beside them.

"I have a berth, you know." Chromia murmured softly against his lips.

"I know. But, I'm not going to make it." He rolled the both of them off the couch, but made sure that he took the brunt of the fall. He rolled onto his back, letting his head rest on the couch cushion. 'Mia broke the kiss, sitting upright. She looked down, locating his straining erection and sliding back on his abdomen. Ironhide moaned at the sensation of her hot and wet port sliding along his plates.

She giggled, centering herself over him. She reached a hand down, grasping him in one hand, bracing against his chest with another. Ironhide helped stabilize her by wrapping his hands around her waist and lowering her slowly. As soon as the head of his rod hit her port, his head flew back. She stiffened, but steeled herself against the pain. Slowly, but surely, she let herself slide down his rod. One of 'Hide's thumbs dropped down and played with her node, distracting her from the pain.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, their hips were flush against each other. 'Hide allowed his optics to come back online and watch his femme. She was grimacing, holding herself still against him. 'Hide let himself feel her. It was enough to keep his hips still while 'Mia recovered and learned his rod. After a long few moments, she began to jerk her hips in small circles and bounce slowly but firmly against him.

Once Ironhide had decided that her faceplate looked relaxed and pleasured instead of hard and in pain, he gently flipped her over. 'Mia's optics were bright and sultry, making him want to kiss her so very badly. He leaned forward to kiss her and gently rearranged her legs to sit on his hips. Her ankles locked behind him, and her hips moved forward on his interface. The blissful pleasure of a femme's port locked on his rod was making his processor spin. He broke free of the kiss and buried his face in the side of her neck, kissing and nuzzling lovingly.

With his free hand, he reached down and touched her port lips. From the angle, he could feel his rod slip in out of her port and he could feel the heat radiating from her. One glance at Chromia's faceplate told him that the small femme was in utter bliss. After the first few moments of discomfort, she was repaid with the upmost pleasure. 'Hide had always thought that she would have been a loud and obnoxious lover, but she was actually quite quiet.

He allowed his hand to slip to her node. He began caressing and lightly teasing the swollen nub, making Chromia moan and whimper for more. Her hands, which had been clutching the floor, reached up and grabbed his forearm. He smirked, knowing that she was moving quickly to the brink of overload. And after having been without a femme for so long, so was he. Usually Ironhide could last a lot longer than most mechs, through sheer force of will. However, he was so hot and bothered that there was no way he was going to last long. HE would be lucky if he could keep from spilling like a youngling before she overloaded.

It was in his best interest to make her overload very quickly so he could follow on her heels. 'Hide licked one of his fingers and lowered it back down to her node, allowing the slickness of his finger to glide over her node. He pushed his finger gently into her node and watched as her optics flickered and she stiffened. She liked that a lot. She drew massive amounts of air into her vents in an attempt to cool her systems. Ironhide almost laughed. It was a very virginal thing to do- trying to control the heat.

He let her recover slightly from the first near-overload, but pushed her straight into a processor blowing overload by pushing the palm of his hand into her node and rubbing his hand back and forth on the soft mound. She let loose a low keening cry and clutched his forearm harder, nearly denting the hardened metal. He staved off his overload for a few moments, so he could watch her overload for the first time with him inside her. She bucked her hips into his and shuddered hard, throwing her head back and arching her chassis. Her optics flickered violently, giving away how fierce her overload had been.

Feeling her port clench around him and the dark pink liquid gushing around his rod made Ironhide feel like his transfluid was going to burst out of him. He picked up the pace, almost brutally thrusting against the small femme, but he knew she could take it and probably liked it. 'Mia recovered enough to let her warm hand caress the base of his rod, giving it a squeeze.

"I love you, Ironhide." Was all it took from his femme for his overload to tackle him from behind. With a savage growl and a quick thump of his hips, he allowed stream after stream of his transfluid to coat her internal walls and fill her tank. After he recovered, he gave her a satisfied, mechly smile. It was appealed to his nature to know that the femme he adored and lived for now held his transfluid in her tank, waiting for a signal from their sparks to allow their sparkling to come to life.

"I love you too, 'Mia." He said affectionately, brushing her cheek with his massive hand. He tenderly kissed her and pulled his rod out of her port, holding a hand beneath her port, catching what transfluid spilled out. He was disappointed at what spilled and wanted to put it back inside of her. Usually he couldn't care less about where his fluid ended up, but he found himself wanting to flood her with it.

"C'mon. Let's get cleaned up and go to recharge. I assume you have a berth around here somewhere, don't you?" He sent her a teasing glance, pulling her to her feet, stabilizing her until she was able to stand on her own feet. Together, they walked to the washrack, where they squeezed in together. Chromia purred as Ironhide cleaned her and eased a cloth between her legs, making sure she was comfortable. 'Mia returned the favor, cleaning Ironhide. Both of them decided that it was foolish to go to separate domiciles this late at night. And so, the two new lovers crawled into 'Mia's tiny berth together and fell into recharge.

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><p>Ironhide smiled as his processor replayed that night for him. They had been so young. So naïve. But, it was a memory that both of them treasured. Now a days, they were both much more aggressive than they had been. They would take turns being dominate and submissive. But, one thing had never changed between them. The love that they gave to each other through pleasure. Other couples could cuddle and utter pretty words, but Ironhide and Chromia worked differently. They were much more physical. And they were perfect that way.<p>

Still, he preferred his femme when she was upright and riding him, not when she was sideways and clutching her chest plates in pain. Of course, now that they were bonding, nothing beat interfacing while spark-merging, but considering that her casing was going to sore for the next few earth weeks, it looked as though they were going to be taking a trip down memory lane. He smiled, stroking her a little softer. He could live with gentle and loving. He might even enjoy it.

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><p>Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed! A special shout out to Jovianokamigirl, who has been with me since day one! Also, two of my favorite authors, Phoenix13 and Plenoptic have reviewed and added this story! I was so happy and excited to see that my peers are enjoying my story. Thanks to everyone who reviewed. You guys inspire me to write these massive dirty chapters! Please keep it up. I eat and breathe them. Also, I can't believe I wrote that. That's crazy. Apologies for any mistakes, once again. But, I'm human too.<p> 


	6. Needs

Ouch. Ironhide and Chromia did not get the reception I had thought. Let's try again.

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><p>"'Mia. I need you." The husky words left his mouth of their own accord. Sometimes pride has to come before a mech can make love to his femme.<p>

"I know you do." Came the short reply. She didn't even pause in her typing.

"'Mia…you know I was only joking." 'Hides optics were as wide as they could go, pleading silently with her. He reached out to touch her seated form, but thought better of it at the last second. If he touched her now, she might snap and attempt to kill him. Or take his interface off. Neither of which he wanted.

Her chair swung around so quickly it startled the old warrior. His outstretched hand fell quickly. He didn't want her to know that she was so utterly beautiful when she was angry. That would only make her angrier. And more beautiful.

"Really? Just joking? Seems to me that joking is funny to everyone. It usually isn't done in a hurtful manner. Especially not hurtful to your mate." She stood abruptly, one small finger coming up to poke him in the chest plates. "Telling all your friends that I'm a good fuck is one thing, but to tell them that I get off on being dominated is another. Do you know how many rude comments I've gotten since I returned from the medbay?"

Her fury encompassed their quarters, making the cold room seem like it was on fire. The anger in her optics nearly crippled him. Usually when they fought, there was some blame to be put on the both of them. They would always exchange rude and hurtful words, but they were both to blame. This time, it was all on him.

"I got over energized. You know what I'm like when I get drunk, Chromia!" At the furious laugh, he added quickly, "When you were in the medbay, I was so worried about you. I started thinking back to our first interface. I guess I still had it on my processor when I went to unwind. I'm sorry."

Chromia was dead silent. The stillness and silence of her body made Ironhide very uncomfortable. She looked like a statue, put there for his viewing enjoyment. Except that he couldn't enjoy looking at her when she looked like she was going to turn into a banshee and come flying at him.

After a few moments of silence, Ironhide decided to reach out to her. "'Mia?" One of his giant hands came close to her, petting her on the head, but keeping his distance. It was best to treat her like a wild beast. Calm for now, but capable of killing at long distances.

"Ironhide." Her voice nearly broke. Her head was down. She looked…defeated. "Please, just leave. I need some time."

Ironhide drew his hand back, letting it drop like a dead weight at the end of his arm. Seeing Chromia looking so little and defeated made him want to kill something. Anything. His ferocious mate, felled by his own hand. It was so unfair. He was supposed to protect and cherish her, not make her angry and disappointed in himself.

He nodded shortly, drawing his massive shoulders back and turning on his heel. In four long strides, he was at the door. He paused, leaning his foreplate on the door, not wanting to leave his quarters and his mate, but wanting to obey her.

"HA! Got you!" 'Mia's voice rang out from behind him, just as her weight hit his backplate. Her momentum shoved his faceplate into the door. The sound of metal hitting metal sounded through the room and stunned him for a moment. All she needed was a moment. Her slim arms had wound through his thick plating.

The end result was Ironhide's bad optic pressed to the door and his mate's arms wound tightly around his neck, making him choke. He spluttered, desperate to get out of her hold, but at the same time he was thrilled that she was now acting the Chromia he knew and loved.

"B…ad femm…e." He managed to choke out as he moved backward, taking her with him. He hit his back against the wall, effectively crushing her behind him. She let out a small 'oof' as she made rough contact. Her legs came up to wrap around his broad abdomen, squeezing him roughly. Luckily for him, his plating was broad enough to not allow her legs to get through and squeeze his inner wiring.

"'Hide! You're smooshing me! Get off!" She roared in his audio, finishing her yelling with a piercing scream right in his audio.

He couldn't help it. He started laughing. With 'Mia choking his vents, there was no way he could keep standing while trying to vent and laugh at the same time. He slowly started to sink to his knees, placing his hands on her arms. When he had managed to get his thumbs under her arms, he bent forward and roughly flipped her.

'Mia landed on her back. Her optics looked over-dilated and she was obviously overwhelmed. Ironhide felt his interface rod warm slowly as he looked at her. He was perched on his knees above her, watching as she tried to regain her senses. He had thrown her roughly, but his femme could take it. She liked it. She liked playing rough. It got her chips running hot.

It was true that she liked to be dominated, but she never made it easy. And Ironhide liked that a lot. It got him hot that she was a rough femme. He couldn't be mated to a femme that he constantly had to worry about hurting. With 'Mia, he knew that she loved it.

He crawled over her slowly, knees settling beside her shoulders. His hands planted next to her hips. His head tilted down, meeting her optics with his own. His hand slowly moved from beside her hip to rest on her hip. He started tracing her leg, up to her waist, then back down to her knee.

'Mia purred beneath him, reaching up with both hands. One hand went to his face, where her hand traced the side of his face, mindful of his bad optic. Her other hand traced her own chassis, mesmerizing him. She would often touch herself in his presence. It was a teasing move, but a loving one none the less. She smiled up at him.

"'Hide. I wasn't really that mad. But, you need to be taught that what you say while drunk can make me really mad. It irked me, but I have so many embarrassing pictures and stories about you to counter anything you say about me. Just, please. Think before you speak." Her optics were wide open, meeting his own. Despite the awkward head angle for the both of them, they smiled. All was forgiven.

"I promise, love. I'll be more careful." With that, 'Hide went back to tracing her body with his one free hand. After a few long moments of lulling Chromia into a seemingly peaceful mood, she struck out with a leg, pushing against his collar armor.

The hit was enough to make his head snap back and lose his grip on her hip. She managed to sneak out from under him before he could make another grab at her. She was on her feet and he was on his knees. She was so beautiful. And so, so deadly.

And she was all his. The mere thought made his pump speed up, his hands clenching thin air. He wanted her between his arms. Just hold her…for a moment. He drug himself to his feet. He really wasn't in the mood to fight her. This was going to have to be quick and dirty. Get her down and get her to surrender. Now that he had a game plan, sort of, he began moving around her. She moved into a crouching, defensive position.

He subspaced a small wrench and held it tightly in his hand. It was too small for her to see, but large enough to do some damage. He circled her, grasping the wrench lightly. There was no way he was going to throw it at her, but if he could distract her, he could grab her from behind and force her to submit to him. When her back was facing the door, he threw the wrench as hard as he could towards the wall.

The wrench hit the door, landing with an almighty TWANG. Chromia's body turned sideways and as if his world was now in slow-motion, he watched as she turned three quarters of the way towards to the door. That was all he needed. He pounced.

Massive feet propelled his large thighs, which got him airborne. His outstretched hands caught her around the waist, his momentum taking them both to the ground. In a flash he had both of her hands caught in one of his large ones, pinned behind her. Her face was pressed to the floor and her knees were caught up between his thighs. His other hand was cupping her jaw.

Any movement by the femme and he'd just have to slide his knees forward and pull his hand back. It was an adorable little triangle of his 'Mia, caught under him.

"GET OFF ME!" her shrill scream reverberated off the walls of their apartments.

"No, bad femme." He replied, tightening his grasp on her jaw minutely, but enough to be a tangible threat.

"I WILL RIP YOUR INTERFACE OFF!" She thrashed under him, screaming and wriggling.

"Alright. That's it." Taking a moment to himself, mostly to compose his overheating interface, which was pressing uncomfortably against his sodpiece in this position, he scooted forward and pulled her jaw back.

The screaming stopped immediately. She knew that he had her in one of the few unbreakable poses. It was one of the most common he taught when teaching new recruits how to restrain someone completely.

"Do you give? Hmmm, my sweet?" He dipped his head slightly so he was covering her completely, while pushing into her legs more harshly. She gave a small cry, but it was of distress, not pain.

There was stark silence. Then, "Yes. I give. Now, will you fuck me?" Leave it to his wonderful mate to initiate a spark merge and interface by being just as blunt as he was.

"Of course!" He said, sounding perky and self-satisfied. "But first, I have something to do." He let her jaw drop to the floor and she turned her face to the side, so she could see what he was doing. Without a word, he subspaced a pair of handcuffs. They were a small, disposable pair, but they were common procedure for femmes. Strong and able to be sized down for a femme. Therefore, it was perfect for this situation.

Not surprisingly, Chromia began thrashing and yelling as soon as she saw them. "'Hide! No, no, no. At least cuff me in front. Please. Pretty please? I'm going to lose circulation in my arms like this. You're going to crush my poor little arms. Then, you'd feel so bad. Wouldn't you? I think you would." She was babbling, trying anything and everything to get out of being cuffed.

"What makes you think I'm going to flip you over?" He asked her gruffly, his arousal reaching his voice, making him sound older and meaner than ever. But, his 'Mia knew that it was just what happened when he got aroused.

She stilled beneath him. Her helm sank to the floor. She did her best to look pitiful, but it meant nothing to him. She'd already tricked him once today with that look. Fool me once…

To distract her, he pulled off her interface panel. Her legs were still in the air and he was still pinning her knees, so the sensation must have been really odd. She wasn't used to having NO control. She was only used to having less control than him.

She shivered, feeling the cool air of the room, as well as the freezing tiles beneath her. Her shoulders relaxed, allowing her arms to hit her back. Ironhide gently traced her back struts, letting her know that everything was good. It was still him and her, expressing their love for each other. He, by giving her pleasure and she by trusting him.

His fingers slowly wrapped around her knees, spreading them slowly, helping her adjust. He couldn't help the smile that spread across his faceplates. He loved this little femme so very much. Here she was, completely helpless and trusting of him. For that trust, he would reward her with so much pleasure.

Slipping one hand down, he began to caress her interface port. He wasn't surprised to find that she was dripping lubricant. It flowed out of her port and onto the tiles beneath her. One of his large, black fingers dipped into her, thrusting gently, but firmly.

Ironhide kept his optics trained on her beautiful faceplate. Her optics were so light they looked like they were pure light. Her mouthplates was open slightly, allowing her to vent and make lovely little keening noises. She would sigh unhappily when his finger would retreat and drop her hips. She would moan slightly when his finger would push in to her, raising her hips.

He dropped his foreplate onto the side of her helm, pushing into her faceplate slightly. Her head was looking a little forced in the sideways position, so he cradled his extra hand under her helm. She murmured her thanks into his hand, turning into the warmth. His finger thrusting was getting more and more shallow, seeking her internal node. He knew he had found it when Chromia jumped and yelped.

He stroked the very tip of his finger over her sensitive node. There was no mistaking her pleasure. The small femme beneath him was hissing and panting, bucking her hips. Her optics darkened and offlined suddenly. A low, long keening cry escaped her and she pressed her hips into his hand, seeking more pressure on her external node. Ironhide complied, pressing the heel of his hand into her node, grinding against it.

It was all Chromia needed. She came apart, flying full force into a silent overload. She usually made a lot of noise before her overload, but during, she was usually silent. And this time was no exception. But, she was beautiful. He watched her faceplate give clues to her pleasure, a little smile on her lips, optics onlining slowly.

Ironhide reached down and kissed the side of her head softly. He transformed one massive hand into a knife and carefully cut off the tie strap that was acting as a pair of handcuffs. He rubbed her wrists as she recovered from her overload, gently hauling her up to her knees. It was an intimate position. His hips pressed into her own, hands around her waist. She now had control of her limbs, but she was far too comfortable to do anything about it.

"'Mia," Ironhide paused, pressing his mouthplates to her audio. "I love the slag out of you. I do. I love you so much."

She turned her head slightly into his own, purring and rubbing against him.

"I know, sweetspark. I love 'the slag' out of you too." She said with a laugh in her voice. "But for now, show your love to your femme and put buckets of transfluid in me."

There was his dirty talking girl, back from the edge of overload-induced oblivion. With a soft growl, Ironhide nearly tore off his own interface covering. With no time wasted, he pushed his rod into his femme's exposed port. He knew she could take it, having just had an overload.

It was exquisite. Her port was relaxed, but hot and wet. She was shaking with aftershocks, making her port walls spasm and grab onto his rod almost harshly in her pleasure. It wasn't something he could do often, but he always tried to have her overload before he even entered her. However, with his need for interface, this rarely happened.

He was much taller than her, so it took little effort to drop a little bit and rise up to get the proper motion and friction. He supported himself with one hand braced on the floor, the other hand wound between Chromia's breast plates, cupping her jaw lightly. This way, he could keep his balance and keep her upright.

Judging by the happy moans and squeaks coming from his femme, he was doing a dark good job. His glossa snaked out and traveled the length of her throat, softly and sensually. She keened, dropping her head away from his glossa, letting him have reign of her throat. He obliged her, nipping and biting softly at the exposed wiring.

Her optics were hard to see from the awkward angle, but he could tell she was ready to overload. So, conveniently, was he. His hand that was holding her upright moved down to come across her hips, forcing her to grab behind her and onto the back of his helm to support her body weight. He rested the front of his helm against the back of her own, letting the intimacy flow through them.

His now vacant hand began teasing her external node. He would run two fingers down her valve, but skip over the node. He would trace circles around it, but not touch it. When she was a keening, moaning mess in his arms, he took pity on his femme. He pressed down on the node, hard. She came apart nearly instantly. She shook in his arms, her port walls clenching around his rod.

With a mighty roar, Ironhide emptied all his transfluid into her waiting and relaxed valve, causing it to overflow. He lost his balance in his attempt to relax and had to shift his weight backwards or risk crushing Chromia. The end result? 'Hide and 'Mia on their backs, cuddled together on the cold, unforgiving tiles of their apartments.

"I should talk about our sexual exploits more often, if this is where it gets me." 'Hide managed to pant out to his darling mate, who was curled happily against his side.

"I think you should not talk. Ever again. About anything." Her devilish grin made him frown. Mean femme. Mean femme with mean vocalizers. They were all mean. Mean and rude.

"But then you'd never be able to hear me tell you how beautiful you are. How much you mean to me. How much my spark yearns for yours." His optics met hers, telling her without words that he was serious about his statements.

"How about you just show me how much your spark wants mine?" She asked, teasing a small hand down his chest plates. With a broad grin, Ironhide flipped over. The last thing Chromia saw before his spark was his black chestplates and his eat-slag grin. After that, she didn't need to see anything more.

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><p>HURRAY FOR INTERFACE! How about some more reviews? What do ya say? Please? I also take and welcome suggestions and pairings, if you so feel inclined.<p> 


	7. Prime Programming

I couldn't help but think about how frustrating it must be to be too busy for your spouse. So, this chapter was born. I like it. I'm sorry this chapter took so long. I was moving hallway across the country and just got settled in. Thanks for reviews! They keep me writing. Some of this chapter references Episode 23 of Transformers Prime. (Which has only aired in Canada as of 8/25/11.) It's not really a spoiler, but if you're super sensitive, don't read. (You probably wouldn't even know you'd been spoiled until you watch the episode. In fact, I'm probably worrying too much.) Read and review, please!

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><p>"I think you've been working too hard." Elita's softly lilting alto filled the audio units of the mech commander. The words she uttered were meant to soothe him, make him relax and take his life a little less seriously. Instead, they had the opposite effect. The commander merely sat up straighter at his desk, tossing aside one data pad and picking up another. He didn't even bother to look up and see his mate.<p>

"I'm being serious, Optimus. This is not healthy. I'm used to you being online for long periods of time, but this is pushing it. You've been awake for almost an Earth week." Elita sighed, crossing from her place at the doorway to his desk. Stopping in front of her gorgeous mate, she waited patiently for him to do something. Anything, really.

It was a sad fact of their lives as commanders. They were used to being ignored and pushed aside for their work. Optimus had a steadfast rule to attempt to thwart this behavior, which was that they would make love to one another at least once a week. Sometimes, like now, that morphed into a once a month love making session.

If it made her sound selfish, so be it. But, this femme needed some loving. It had been over three weeks since Optimus had touched her at all. It was time for him to realize that they were back to the regular war grind. Work, work, work…love. So far, Optimus had gotten the working down pat. But, the loving…not so much.

And Elita could feel through their bond that Optimus was in dire need of loving, also. He always got tense and irritable if he didn't 'release' his 'tensions'. He'd already snapped at her twice in the past few days, citing that she was being 'needy' and that he had work to be done. Almost as soon as he had stalked angrily past her, he was on his knees in front of her, begging forgiveness for his words.

She didn't take it seriously. Optimus needed to vent his feelings, his frustrations. And he could do that two ways; through his (usually kind) words or through a good old fashioned horizontal tango. The only thing that was worrying her was his aversion to making love to her. Two orns ago she had trapped him in the showers and washed his body thoroughly, making sure to caress his groin plates teasingly and what came of her efforts? Nothing. Only a kiss to her helm and a quick snuggle before he left to get to his office.

Optimus still hadn't looked up from his work. He did, however, send a wave of pure love and adoration through their bond. Elita sighed, sinking onto the edge of his desk. Due to the height of his desk, this put Elita's head above Optimus' own. He was gorgeous. But, it was time for him to realize that once again in their bonding, his 'Prime programming' had taken over.

They symptoms of 'Prime programming' were exactly what he was displaying right at that moment. Tunnel vision, tunnel focus. He cared little for himself, not recharging and not bathing. Luckily for everyone, he had not been rolling around in the mud, or else Elita would have to drag him by his audial fin to the washracks.

For now, she had a different idea that involved his audial fin. From her angle, she could watch the back of his helm bob up and down, concentrating on his data pad. His beautiful audial fins caught the overhead lights in an alluring way, making her ache. She loved to watch his fins when he made love to her, they made him look so majestic and noble, like a king. Really, his whole body made her hot, but at that moment, she would take anything she could get.

"Elita. I love you." His dulcet tones belied his tense position, shoulders stiff and head down. "But, you must leave me to work for a while longer. The humans are blaming us; more importantly, they are blaming me, for all of the damage done to the Diego Garcia airstrip." For once, brilliant blue optics looked up at her, making contact. Elita felt her spark wrench. Her poor mech looked as exhausted as she felt. "Do you have any idea how many rules and regulations they make you sign off on before construction can begin? I offered to have the mechs re-pave the strip, but apparently they do not trust us to build up to their 'standards.'"

Optimus sighed, dropping his head once more, focusing once more on his beloved data pad. Elita smiled, dropping her own helm down to rest on the back of his own. Her glossa snaked out and licked sensuously up the side of his audial fin, finishing her tour of his helm with a luxurious suck on the end of his fin. Optimus was silent, but had ceased his movements, some of the tension in his massive shoulders dissipating. Elita smiled against the back of his helm, repeating the same motions for his other audial fin. "El-i-ta." Optimus moaned softly, rolling his massive shoulders, working the remaining tension out of them.

"Yes, my lover?" She asked, interspersing the statement with sensuous licks and kisses to the sides of helm, covering his paint with small kisses. The humans called them 'butterfly' kisses, which she felt was oddly appropriate, given how soft and supple they were. Optimus' helm dropped all the way to the desk, leaving Elita in the space-dust. She dropped one loving hand onto his shoulder and rubbed softly, soothing the tired and stressed metal.

"Optimus?" She questioned lightly, expecting the mech to remain silent for a little while. After a few Earth seconds, she repeated her query. Another few moments passed, and Elita's optic shutters narrowed worryingly. She patted the back of his helm, poking the side of his audial. The only noise she received in return was that of Optimus venting softly, slowly.

"Optimus Prime! How dare you fall asleep on your femme when she is trying to seduce you!" Elita grappled with her need to blast off his interface appliance, but her anger quickly dissipated when his head turned to the side, revealing his relaxed face-plates. "I guess you probably need the recharge more than I need the overload."

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><p>Optimus awoke suddenly, jerking to an upright seated position. The tension in the back of his neck was all the information he needed to process to know that he had fallen asleep at his desk. Back when he was a younger mech, newly appointed to the Prime-ship, he could and would recharge wherever he fell. As he aged, and gained a mate, he learned that a berth was much more comfortable than a desk and data-pad. It seemed that it was time for him to relearn that lesson. He rubbed at his sore metal with a giant metal hand and groaned.<p>

His optics focused on the desk in front of him. The data-pad he had been working on had been stolen, but a ransom note had been carefully placed on the desk right above where his helm had been resting.

'If you want me, you'll have to find me.' Was written in Cybertronian on the pad. He smiled. Elita. His beautiful mate. His interface stirred as his processor replayed what she had been doing to him before he so rudely offlined himself and recharged on his desk. Her mouth, so hot and slick, had been tracing the sensitive fins on either side of his head. He had been hopelessly aroused by his female, even though his need for work was attempting to override his arousal.

These two strong code packets had clashed in his CPU, causing him to crash. After he recovered from the crash, he found himself in need of recharge and the soft hand on his backplates and helm only made him sink further and further into recharge.

Optimus stood and stretched his massive limbs towards the ceiling. It wouldn't be a good idea to approach his femme with thoughts of loving if his arms were too stiff to support his weight above her. His poor Elita. His programming had overruled his spark—and he'd allowed it. His guilt flooded his spark, making his optics dim as he strode out the door.

He sent a quick communiqué to Prowl, informing the mech that he was done playing with the humans. They could either repave the air-strip, or his mechs would do so. No more of this bullslag paper work.

He strode down the hallway, intent on finding his Elita. It was time for an interface and spark merge. He grinned at the thought. Spark-merging with his femme was a favored activity, but more-so after a long break. Her port would be nice and tight. And, she'd cuddle with him for a good long while afterwards.

He typed in the code to their quarters, allowing them to slide open. All the lights were off and there was no sign of his mate. He left, deciding that it would be better to find her and speak to her in person than it would be to try and locate her through a GPS or a communiqué. He let his feet take him wherever they wanted.

She was not in the medbay, nor was she near Wheeljack's lab. She was certainly not to be found in the shooting range, where Ironhide was punishing Sunstreaker and Sideswipe for their latest prank. She wasn't in the common room, where the mechs who were off duty were inventing a new drinking game at Perceptor's expense…and he didn't even know it.

That left…the command center. Optimus checked his internal chronometer. It was 11:30pm, Pacific Standard Time. It was almost time for the graveyard shift to start and then the base would go from being fully staffed to working on a skeleton crew. There was no reason for Elita to be in the command center, but she was there. Unless she was in the airplane hangar. Which would be…odd, so say the least.

He typed his Commander's code and was immediately admitted into the large space. Humans and Autobots alike were congregating around giant television screens and computer terminals. Both Cybertronian and English were displayed on the screens, making Optimus smile at the show of different species working closely together.

As his optics fell to the center of the room, he noticed Elita. She was slumped in his commander's chair, chin in her hand, optics focused on the front screen. The front screen was only showing the latest CNN broadcast about the Middle East. She probably was not entirely focused on the latest riots. And given her blasé body language, he was sure she wasn't focused on anything external. He reached over their bond, finding dark depression threatening his beloved's spark.

Unfortunately for Optimus, he did not examine the bond closely enough to realize that beneath the depression was anger and a genuine upset in her system. She was a femme scorned by her lover, and even unintentional scorning was a recipe for disaster. As he crept forward, one large hand came to rest on her helm.

* * *

><p>"Elita?" Optimus' baritone range through her audios; a sound that was usually a soothing balm for her only served as an irritant. Elita was in no mood to cater to her mate's desires. She snorted, shaking her head, making his hand fall from her helm.<p>

At first, it had been easy to reason with her CPU that Optimus was just tired. All she was trying to do was make him relax and stop working. And, he did stop working. The thing about Femme processors is that they aren't always reasonable. They often picked how the spark felt over what their processor was telling them.

Because of this, Elita's processors were furious. Oh, it had taken a while for the anger to really settle in. While Optimus recharged, it just began to slowly take over her mind, her thoughts. How dare he sleep while she was trying to seduce him? Why didn't he go recharge before he went in to work that day? If he had been a responsible mate and leader, he would have taken care of his needs before she became so desperate.

If he would have been a good mate to her, he would have seen to her needs before she became a raging, angry pile of metal. A pretty, gorgeous pile of metal. That was nearly steaming. And the more she sat in Optimus' chair, the angrier and more self-righteous she became. Oh, the back of her CPU was telling her that throwing this hissy fit was ridiculous and that throwing said hissy fit in the middle of the command center was probably the worst thing she could do. The mating affairs of her mate and herself were about to be exposed to everyone in the command center, both mech and human. At that particular moment, she couldn't have cared less.

"What do you want?" Her normally soft and smooth alto had turned into a snarling, angry soprano. The hand that she had kicked off her shoulder was resting on the back of her chair, and although she could not see it, or Optimus, she knew that he was feeling guilty. Resolutely, she kept her face forward, determined not to look at him.

Their bond flooded open and Optimus pushed through his guilt. As his guilt hit her full force, she gasped, turning to look at her mate. She had expected a twinge of guilt and a lot of desire. She had expected to turn those emotions into fuel for her internal fire. But, upon feeling the oppression of his guilt, her anger flickered and died.

His face was wrought with guilt and agony. His optics were dim and his mouth was drawn. His posture was very uncharacteristic; he was slouched, massive proud shoulders drooping. He seemed much shorter than usual and did not seem to have his usual presence and aura. Seeing him like this almost made her spark break.

She tried to hold onto her rancor, but it vanished as he sent another wave of guilt through their bond. This wave of guilt was wrapped in apology. Watching his face as he sent her his emotions was all she could take. It was akin to watching a mechano-puppy being kicked when all he was trying to do was lick somebody's face.

Elita rose from his seat, venting softly when she left the soft bubble of his scent, clinging to his chair. Optimus' optics brightened marginally, but made no move to touch her. Neither of them realized that the entire room had gone deathly silent, watching the couple. They only had optics for one another. Elita stood uncertainly in front of her mate for a few moments, trying to decide what to do next. There was only one thing that her processor was suggesting.

She walked forward and threw her arms around his waist, holding on for dear life. She sent him a wave of pure love and adoration, as well as forgiveness. Optimus enclosed her in his massive arms, sending her a wave of pure love, untainted with lust or desire. Both Commanders stood in the embrace of their partner, enjoying the closeness over the bond and their physical closeness.

Optimus gently scooped Elita up and into his massive arms, carrying her from the room. Both ignored the gaping and pointed looks that the mechs and humans were giving them. Neither cared, knowing that the humans and mechs in the room were smart enough and respected them enough to not spread unjust rumors. Of course…if Sunstreaker or Sideswipe had been in the room, it would have been a different story.

Optimus allowed his long legs to carry both himself and his beloved femme to their apartments. The entire time Elita was looking at him with a combination of lust and pure love in her optics. At the same time, she was sending him desire and adoration through the bond. Optimus allowed himself to smile for the first time since entering the command center. His femme was in prime form enraptured in his arms.

He quickly typed in the code to their rooms, bypassing the living room and the washracks, heading straight to the berthroom. Optimus gently deposited his femme onto the berth, dropping a gentle kiss to the top of her helm.

"Give me just a moment, love. I'm going to wipe down quickly before making love to you. I wouldn't want to make you dirtier than I'm already planning." With a smirk not often witnessed, Optimus left to make himself more presentable for his femme.

* * *

><p>What had started as a simple wipe-down had turned into a shower. After going through three solid wipes, front and back, he had decided that he was far too dirty to go to his femme in such a state. Therefore, he had jumped into the shower and washed and waxed himself into pristine form. Elita would be so happy to have a clean mech in her berth. Optimus walked back into the berthroom with a broad smile gracing his regal faceplates.<p>

"Elita?"

There she was, spread eagle on the berth, recharging away. She hadn't even left him enough room to join her. He'd have to risk life and interface unit to get into bed and cuddle. Optimus sighed, pulling a blanket out of storage and carefully draping it over his femme.

Then, he turned on his heel and walked to the living room, pulling out some data-pads as he went. He chuckled, settling into the comfy couch. Turnabout is fair play.

"Might as well get some work done."


	8. Alpha Male

"C'mon, 'Lita." Optimus whined, cuddling into Elita on their massive recharge berth. The two were intimately intertwined on the berth, but Elita was holding back.

"No! Optimus. I will not lower myself like that." Optimus frowned, propping himself up on one arm, holding his upper body over his mate. He surveyed her face for a long moment, attempting to decide if she was dead-set against the idea, or if she was merely nervous. With her optics offline, it was difficult to tell. Elita's optics had always been the most expressive part of her beautiful faceplate. His spark brushed against her own, attempting to show his mate that there was no harm in being afraid. It was intimate. It was frightening. It had the potential to be very embarrassing.

"Please, dearspark?" His optics had darkened with lust, his interface was revved harder than it had ever been. And still, Elita lay still on the berth, ignoring him and his lust filled optics. She rolled over, presenting her backplates to him. And her aft. Optimus smiled, surveying her aft with approving optics.

"Stop looking at my aft." Elita's soft, tired voice drifted up to his audios. She curled into herself, settling down for sleep. Optimus snickered quietly, knowing that his femme was one of the smartest he had ever come across. He let himself relax, dropping his helm down and surveying his femme on the same level that she was on.

He really wished that Elita would do this with him. He had tried to stress to her that it would have been with him, not for him. But his femme was stubborn if nothing else. And she was staying true to her initial 'no.'

"Optimus." His optics onlined, he hadn't even realized that they had drifted offline. Elita's helm rested fractionally above his own, her optics glowing softly in the darkness of the room. One of his large hands crept to the back of her neck, gently cupping her helm. Her voice had carried to his audios with the same inflection that she used when she was about to overload. The tone had his interface straining at his codpiece, begging to be sheathed in the femme. Hand, mouth, anything would do.

"Optimus," She repeated his name with the same soft, needy tone. He nearly moaned out loud. "I love you very much. But, I'm worried about doing this." The femme looked concerned and wouldn't make optic contact with him. Optimus used the hand of the back of her helm to guide her faceplate back to his own. He put gentle pressure on her, allowing her to come forward and allowing him to kiss her senseless.

To his immense delight, instead of pulling back and being stubborn, she hitched one leg over his torso and straddled him. He groaned at the feel of her. She was inside of him, stroking the bond, she was on top of his chest, and she was kissing him passionately. His other hand came up and rested itself upon her aft, so he was cradling both her helm and her aft in an intimate gesture. Her glossa flicked out and tangled with his for a moment, only to pull back.

"Optimus! Pay attention." He shifted uncomfortably, wanting to pull her back down and rid himself of his groin covering. She looked away for a moment, stealing herself, before making intense optic contact with him. "I want to do this. But, I've never been that vulnerable in front of another person before. And certainly never had it filmed. I'm…I'm nervous." Her helm dipped in a feminine show of weakness and shame that nearly shocked Optimus beyond his ability to speak.

His femme was admitting to being nervous about something? The same femme who had charged Shockwave and raided his personal stash of energon? The femme who was usually the dominating force in their relationship was having a bout of nervousness about this? Optimus almost allowed himself a laugh, but did not want to anger Elita and cause her to kick him out of the domicile for the night.

Instead, he gently traced from her aft, up her backstrut, until he reached the back of her helm. Then the hand resting here would travel down to her aft and back up. She visibly relaxed into his touch, meeting his optics once again. He turned inward, stroking their bond. He sent her waves of calm and love. When she returned the favor, he sent her passion. The effect on the femme was immediate and a little startling.

She cried out softly into his audio. He shuddered, knowing that she was just as turned on as he was. He stroked her more firmly, allowing his hands to wander off her back. He sat up, bringing Elita with him. She sat in his lap, grinding against him gently. He smiled, knowing that she was just on the edge of losing control. One large hand slipped down, while the other came up. The hand going up gently traced her beautiful faceplate, while the other traced her port. She was still completely covered, so he was busy teasing her, preparing her for their activity that night.

"Optimus, please!" Elita's helm shook back and forth, letting him know that she was upset with him. He chuckled, knowing that he was going to have to be firm with his normally dominate femme.

"No. I will not touch under your armor until you've let me record you." Elita pressed the crest of her helm against his own, so they were optic to optic. The sheer want in her optics made him shudder, knowing that when they were done recording, he was going to have the time of his life. Optimus loved when Elita lost control.

"Fine! Yes! I'll do it, for Primus sake!" Optimus smirked, gently kissing his femme, while gently flipping them both over. He grabbed his pillow and stacked it on top of her own, then gently laid her helm upon them. He jumped off the berth and grabbed the extra pillow from their storage closet, and hurried back to her side. His femme was looking mildly annoyed with life, but he didn't care. Optimus slid his large, muscular forearm under Elita's wide hips, situating the last pillow under her.

Now his femme was lying at an angle, but he had an excellent view of her prostate form. He smiled and climbed onto the berth with Elita. He crouched above her, on his knees and waited for her to indicate that she was ready. Elita smirked at him, before beckoning to him with one long, rose-red finger. Optimus smiled, nearly shuddering with anticipation.

"Why do you want this so badly?" Elita's question made him freeze in place. This was not what he wanted to discuss at the moment. So, he said the first thing that popped into his processor.

"I want to jerk off to it when I'm gone." It took a few seconds for Optimus to realize that he had stuck with the 'youngling' thing. Elita's optics went wide and her mouth dropped open.

Optimus froze, covering his optics with his hand. His mouth opened, but his processor did not allow him to speak, protecting his very life. Elita could be very violent when she wanted to be, and this may have been a step too far over the line.

"Hahahahaha! That was the funniest thing I've ever heard come out of your mouthplates, Optimus Prime. And that includes our first date, darling." A gentle femme hand rested itself on top of his helm and teased up his audial finials. His hand dropped, to see that his femme was now sitting with her aft resting on the spare pillow that he had slid under her hips. She was now sitting considerably taller than she would have without the pillow, but she was still much smaller than he.

"I'm sorry, love." His blue optics pierced her own, "I meant to phrase that in a much more romantic and suave way than it came out." He grabbed her spare hand and brought it to his mouthplates, placing a gentle kiss on the back of it.

"Optimus. I love you all the time. But, I think I love it more when you act like a little boy. It makes me giggle, which makes me feel like a little girl. It makes me feel young and fresh." As she spoke, her hand slipped out of his own, and settled over his groin covering. Her hand was nearly freezing against the hot metal. Optimus took it back, shaking his head gently, before pressing her hand to her breastplate.

"I want to do this, Sweetspark. Please?" Elita hesitated, not knowing if she could go through with his plan. She wrapped herself in her courage, nodding bravely. Optimus smiled in return, gently pressing her back into the pillows. Optimus immediately turned on his internal camera, so that he was recording what he was seeing. He watched as Elita blushed, just like she did the first time he took her in their bonding berth.

"Are you recording me?" Elita asked as her hands rested on her chassis. Optimus simply nodded slightly, so as not to jar his camera too much. Her hands slipped down to tease her breastplates. Optimus tensed, both his chassis and his interface appliance.

"I love you, Optimus." She said as her hands teased down to her port. She pushed aside the panel, revealing her sopping wet port. Optimus pulled his head back, wanting to watch both her face and her port. He backed slowly off the bed, until he could see everything he wanted to see. He pulled his armchair out from behind him and gently sank into the chair.

Elita shuddered at the erotic sight. Her mate, the reigning Prime, was seated before her. He was watching and recording her masturbate. It was dark in their berthroom, but the earth's moon was full this night, and the moonlight was lighting the room with a seductive light. Her fingers were making fast work of her sopping wet port.

It had been almost a vorn since she had taken care of herself in this manner. Optimus had been home a lot lately, which meant that they had been making love often enough to not make her need to masturbate. But, right now, she was all for this. She had never felt so exposed in front of her mate, except for the first few times they had made love. Optimus was watching her like he wanted to eat her alive. She knew that he got lonely during the long separations, but she had never thought of doing something this…naughty.

Sure, Chromia and Ironhide had been to record their lovemaking sessions, but Optimus and herself had never even broached the subject with one another. Optimus had been asking her to consider doing this for about a month, and she had been worried about doing it, but it was excellent. She couldn't remember her port ever being this wet or stuffing this many fingers into her port at once. She knew, subconsciously that she was putting on quite a show for her mate.

For his part, Optimus had come to the conclusion that this was his pit. No mech deserved the torture that he was inflicting upon himself. Damn him for suggesting this. He could have just as easily recorded them making love…together, like 'Hide and 'Mia did. But, no. He had to convince himself that it would be better to record her coming by her own hand. He growled, frustrated with himself. Watching Elita's helm fling back and her back arch was a divine torture. The fingers of one hand were vigorously moving in and out of her port, while the index finger of her other hand was making quick work of her external node.

He could tell that Elita was close to coming. Her optics were brightening desperately, her back was arched more often and she was panting. Her optics locked with his, showing their excitement. Optimus, with Elita watching, allowed his groinplate to detach. His interface sprang forth, and he caught it with a skilled hand. He wasted no time in pleasuring himself. He took a firm grasp and a fast rhythm. Elita's panting became even harder and Optimus was pleased to find that her fingers took the same rhythm as his hand. They were making love from across the room and they couldn't be more turned on.

Optimus was watching Elita closely, he had a plan that involved his transfluid and her climax. Her head flew back, and she came. No sound came out of her mouthplates, except for a small gurgle of pleasure. Optimus let himself record her climax, zooming in on her beautiful face. When her small form began to relax, he hurriedly abandoned the chair and rushed to her side. Since she was already dripping wet and aroused beyond measure, he didn't worry about foreplay for once.

"Elita. I love you." He opened his bond with her as he thrust slowly into her spasmming port. She gasped, but cuddled into his chest plates contentedly. Optimus smiled, momentarily ignoring the burning in his transfluid tank. He flipped them easily, resting them on their sides. Elita murmured soft words of love into his chestplates. In response, Optimus dropped his helm and rubbed his helm against hers softly.

He moved his hips lightly, barely pulling out before sliding back in. Elita moaned, her hands clutching his shoulder guards. Optimus smiled, putting his arms around her and pulling her as close to his chassis as possible. Elita purred happily, kissing at his chest gently. Optimus let one hand balance his femme and himself, while the other slid between their bodies. He found where they were joined intimately and began stroking her external node. Elita gasped, throwing her helm back and meeting his optics. She was overly sensitive after her climax, but Optimus was gentle as possible, working his femme into a tizzy.

Elita's optic contact with him was becoming too much for him to handle, but he couldn't look away. It was so arousing to look into her optics and see her pleasure reflected in them. His male pride swelled within him, knowing that his female was so pleasured by him. Her optics went wide and she overloaded around his spike with a soft, gentle moan. Optimus growled, his own optics deepening in color, giving away his impending climax.

Elita sank her small denta into Optimus' shoulder guard, knowing that it aroused the warrior beyond anything he could handle. Not one to disappoint his femme, Optimus thrust hard into her soaked port, looked into her optics and spurted his transfluid deep into her port and holding tank. Elita kissed his shoulder, her tongue tracing and soothing the marks she had inflicted on the poor armor. Optimus relaxed in her arms, rolling over on top of her. Elita squeaked, unsure as to why he was pinning her down.

Optimus pulled his interface out of his femme's silken heat gently, reluctant to leave her port. His hand soothed his rod, catching the remnants of his transfluid on one massive finger. He offered the finger to his mate, who accepted the finger into her mouthplates, swirling her glossa around his finger. Optimus swelled with pure, unadulterated male pride, secure in the knowledge that his mate was perfect for him. She was smart, sexy and competent. And, she matched him in the berthroom. Primus had blessed him. Optimus rose to his knees, surveying his femme one last time before cutting off his recording and saving it in an encrypted file. Elita tried to rise onto her knees as well, but was met with a snarling, unforgiving mass of mech. She gasped, fighting against the hand that had landed on her chassis. Optimus rose regally above her.

"You will not spill my transfluid out of your port." He growled to her, adjusting the pillow beneath her hips to keep her propped up. Elita's optics brightened slightly, aroused by his blatant dominance over her. Without a spark merge, there was no chance of her carrying a sparkling, so she decided to allow him his dominance. Just this once. Besides, when he used that tone of voice with her, he could do anything he wanted to her willing body and spark.

Optimus kept Elita horizontal for a few Earth hours, pleasuring her multiple times with his mouth and fingers. Elita figured out, about two hours into the ordeal that Optimus was fighting to not sparkmerge with her. Optimus and Elita had talked about a sparkling for vorns, but Elita had been reluctant. Optimus' processors were screaming at him to expand his family and have a family. A couple of weeks ago, Ratchet had sent her a medical article about mechs needing to have sparklings. Ratchet was under the impression that Optimus' Prime programming was putting extra pressure on his processor to have a sparkling.

Ironhide, who was almost a half a millennia older than Optimus, was just experiencing the beginnings of the need. Chromia had almost blasted him through the wall when he had held her down and tried to sparkmerge with her. They were now trying actively to have a sparkling. It seemed that 'Hide had managed to convince her that there were…perks…when trying for a sparkling. And now Optimus had jumped on the bandwagon, it seemed. As long as he didn't try to open her chestplates, he could have all the fun he wanted while he pinned her down.

Elita moaned as Optimus' glossa brushed her external node, then dipped into her port. Oh, yes. Optimus could ride this 'Alpha-male' thing out as long as he kept doing that to her. She giggled as he attacked her port with a fervor, trying to work her into another frenzy. In the medical file Ratchet had sent her, there was information about why mechs overloaded their femmes so many times. It was partly to keep them happy and open to more merges and interfacing, but also because the more climaxes a femme had, the more her chances of conception went up.

Elita nearly screamed as Optimus sent her flying over the edge unexpectedly. As she panted, trying to get away from the agonizing pleasure that Optimus was subjecting her to, she was happy that Optimus had talked her into shooting the video. And she realized that Optimus was going to have to use the video a lot, if his processors were demanding a sparkling and she was nowhere to be found for two months. Maybe she needed to shoot a video.

* * *

><p>There we go. Exploring some new thoughtsideas about Cybertronian mechs… Please review! They make me write more…and dirtier. Hahahaha!


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